


the devil went down

by eddiekissbrak



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Minor Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Size Kink, adding these tags sure is Something, i am So Sorry im writing mike as straight in this fic, thats why the pacings a little wonky, this was supposed to be a fun halloween oneshot and then feelings arrived
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 00:29:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddiekissbrak/pseuds/eddiekissbrak
Summary: “or,” eddie offers, pretending like he’s still focused on his notes. “i could stay home, have a nice glass of cider, and watch nightmare on elm street with stan.”richie snorted. “yeah, i don’t think stan will be hanging out with you tonight.” he slides his phone across the table and eddie reads the last text before letting out a groan.bill (2:06pm)boss gave me friday off!! halloween bash 2019 lets goooooo“so everyone’s fucking —“ the librarian shoots them a warning shush from behind her desk and eddie lowers his voice “everyone’s going except for me?”“yep.”“god fucking — fine. i’ll go.” richie’s grin is blinding, and when eddie’s heart lifts, he thinks it almost might be worth it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this was supposed to be some self-indulgent pwp for me and percy and then all of a sudden it wasn't.

halloween has always been a bit… weird for eddie. 

for most of his childhood years, he’d had to hold sonia’s hand as they trick-or-treated through the cul-de-sac. he’d hit 10 houses at most before she’d turn them around, deciding that if they were out any longer, eddie would ‘catch a chill’. it was a valid concern, sure, but when eddie’s costume was a sheep and he was wrapped up in six layers of wool, his problem lay more in overheating. 

taking off that costume each night was like peeling off a wet scuba suit. 

while that was a great twelve years of his life, by the time he was old enough to actually traipse around with bill and richie instead of his mom, halloween was his least favorite holiday. 

_“it’s just boring. who’s idea of fun is it to walk around aimlessly all night? with costumes on? can’t we do something more fun like — like watch nightmare on elm street?” _

_richie and bill exchanged a glance, attempting (and failing) to hide their amusement. _

_“sh-she’s making you wear the sh-sheep costume again, isn’t she?” _

richie still has the photo of them all dressed up: richie grinning as han solo, bill holding up two bags of candy in his scarecrow costume, and eddie, miserable, squished in between them and wrapped in fuzzy white fur. 

by high-school they just bought bags of candy from the drugstore and ate themselves sick while bingeing horror films and seeing who screamed the most. (it was bill, of course, though eddie would’ve given him a run for his money had he not instead been squeezing richie’s arm until it started to bruise.) halloween became less of an event and more of just another day with the boys with the added bonus of richie attempting to get eddie and bill to pee their pants with his jump-scares. 

then college came, and halloween became unavoidable. 

university brought all kinds of parties: first day of classes parties, last day of midterms parties; up-all-night parties and parties that got busted before most of the people had arrived; parties for passing a class, parties for failing a class, and parties because you made it to class at all. they were all objectively okay, eddie supposed, but for the most part he found them loud and only fun when he was obliterated. 

the biggest party of the semester was always the lacrosse house’s halloween bash. three years in a row the group of them had gone (catching an invite mostly because ben _lived_ there), and each year brought stories untellable without a few shots of vodka to hide the pain of reliving those memories. at this point, eddie was heavily weighing the pros and cons of even showing up. 

“ah, c’mon eds! it’s our last year here. one last halloween bash for the books.” richie was sprawled out across the chair, one leg up on the table where eddie was copying notes and the other straightened out so far the toe of his shoe could tap against eddie’s ankle. richie had never been able to sit like a proper person, and didn’t seem like he ever planned on learning. 

“i don’t even remember most of last year's; why would i want to go again?” eddie doesn’t look up, and richie’s never been good with being ignored, so he slides his long leg off the table and leans forward. 

“that’s the point. this year we go hard, but not too hard —“ eddie braces himself for the your mom joke, but richie barrels through. “so that we still have fun but we’re not embarrassed about it the next day.”

“or,” eddie offers, pretending like he’s still focused on his notes. “i could stay home, have a nice glass of cider, and watch nightmare on elm street.” 

eddie didn’t have to look up to see the light dancing in richie’s eyes. “just you and johnny depp in a crop-top, huh?” 

“as it should be,” he pouts. that movie — specifically young johnny in that outfit — had awakened something in eddie, and if he wanted to spend the evening gawking, he had every right to. “but no, stan said something about keeping me company anyways.” 

richie snorted. “yeah, i don’t think stan will be hanging out with you tonight.” 

“and why is that?” 

“do you _ever_ check the groupchat?” richie asks, knowing full well eddie had it muted at nearly all times. when bill and richie got going, eddie’s battery could drop from 80% to 33% just watching the messages fly by. richie slides his phone across the table and eddie reads the last text before letting out a groan. 

**bill (2:06pm)**  
_boss gave me friday off!! halloween bash 2019 lets goooooo_

as much as stan loved eddie, he loved bill more, and the entire friend group could see that crush from a million miles away. well, everyone but bill. eddie finally looks over at richie

“so everyone’s fucking —“ the librarian shoots them a warning shush from behind her desk and eddie lowers his voice “everyone’s going except for me?”

“yep.”

“god fucking — fine. i’ll go.” richie’s grin is blinding, and when eddie’s heart lifts, he thinks it almost might be worth it. “i still have to get a costume. what’re you going as? we can match.” they’d coordinated before, nearly every year that eddie’d been dragged to these things, and bill usually rounded out the look. richie shifted slightly in his seat. 

“just a vampire this year. thought i’d take it easy.” eddie raises an eyebrow at him. he didn’t think richie knew what take it easy even meant, especially not in regards to halloween costumes. last year, he’d dressed as bane; the year before that he was a knight (in full fucking armor), and freshman year he’d embarrassed the entire group by showing up as shrek, fat suit and all. “but i think bill still needs a costume buddy, if you’re feeling lonely.” richie’s leaning forward now, and eddie ignores the way his breathing changes just slightly at the proximity. “does widdle eddiebear need a fwiend to dress up with?”

eddie shoves him back, cheekbones turning crimson. “do you want me to go to this stupid party or not?” richie’s hands go up in surrender, but he’s still grinning, so eddie just flips him off and returns to his notes. it falls back into silence: richie fucks around on his phone, and eddie focuses studiously on his work, absolutely not hyperfocusing on the way richie’s foot brushes across his ankle. 

— 

turns out bill had no fucking clue what he was going to dress as, so they’d both gone to bev with pleading faces. not the smartest move, since bev could smell desperation from a mile away, and the grin she’d given them after offering to help was so devious it gave eddie chills. bev was an absolute fiend with a sewing machine: she did all the costumes for the university’s plays, designing and building pieces that looked so professional eddie was confused as to how she’d ended up at such a small school and not somewhere like FIT. she was quick, too, and a day after bill and eddie had showed up at her door, eddie’s phone was buzzing with the message to get his ‘pretty ass’ over. 

until looking in the mirror, eddie had regretted even entertaining the idea of going to this stupid party. now… now he thought he might be okay with it. 

“jesus, bev.” eddie turns, admiring her work from all angles. all in all it was kind of a simple costume: bev had gone for a classic angel & devil look, but eddie was positive both he and bill were going to hell for the length of these shorts. not that eddie minded. the red shorts reminded him of ones he’d owned as a kid, but his mother would never have let him out in these: eddie was pretty sure they were straight elastic, wrapping every curve in silky red material and leaving nothing to the imagination. they looked good against his skin, too, the red bright against the warm glow of freckle-dotted thighs. bill, on the other hand, was looking whiter than the clothes he had on. 

“n-no way.”

“yes way,” bev argues, still pinning the wings in place behind him.

“i l-look like an idiot!”

“you always look like an idiot,” eddie offers, still looking in the mirror because jesus, was that really his ass?

“fu-uck you eddie. i can’t go out in th-this!” 

“there is no way you’re not wearing it.” bev, finished with the wings, crosses her arms. “i worked hard on these!” 

“b-but i look—“ 

“hot?” eddie finishes, abandoning the mirror. he doesn’t give bill the chance to start arguing. “you look hot, bill. people aren’t gonna’ be able to look away.” eddie and bev catch each other’s eye, and he knows they’re both thinking the same thing. 

“yeah, i bet _stan_ will love this costume.” bill’s eyes light up briefly at bev’s words, but his face turns to confusion just as quickly. 

“but stan’s j-jewish.” 

eddie and bev roll their eyes in perfect unison. maybe this year’s halloween bash wouldn’t be awful. 

—

it’s so cold out eddie thinks his nipples might actually just fall off his body. he knows he should’ve brought a jacket and if his mom were here she’d be having a conniption, but last year he’d lost his favorite windbreaker in the piles of people and he’s not risking it again. so he’d freeze to death. it’s fine. 

“why couldn’t richie, stan, and mike have just joined us there?” eddie’s teeth chatter when he talks, and he curses richie for not having an apartment closer to campus. “their apartment’s like ten minutes out of the way.” 

“we have to take pictures, eddie,” bev reminds him, like he hadn’t asked three times already on their walk over. eddie pouts. again.

“we’re just gonna’ take more pictures when we get to ben’s,” eddie mumbles, at this point only arguing for the sake of arguing. richie wasn’t there to argue back, though, so the three of them fall back into silence until they’re walking up the steps and pounding on richie’s apartment door. 

mike answers, clad in chaps and a cowboy hat, and eddie has to remind himself to breathe. like, he knows that mike is by far the straightest one in the group and currently head-over-heels in love with jessie, but that doesn’t mean eddie can’t appreciate how incredible his thighs look in those jeans. 

“howdy pardners,” mike says, voice cracking over the words like he’s trying to keep a straight face, and eddie hears richie’s bright laugh from the other room. “why don’t y’all come in?” 

“you better be careful talking like that, mike, or i’ll push you down and save a horse.” bev grins and pushes past eddie to press a kiss to mike’s cheek, who just laughs and lets them in. stan comes out from the kitchen with two bottles of vodka, one of which is immediately appropriated by bev, but he freezes halfway to the living room. eddie looks over to where bill’s standing, clearly flushed, and when he looks back, stan looks just as red in the face. 

bev just looks proud of herself. 

“drinks?” stan asks weakly, and bill nods enthusiastically before they all head into the kitchen. eddie’s still standing near the couch, wondering where the fuck richie is, when a shadow appears in the doorway. 

“jesus, bev really went all out, didn’t she?” eddie’s eyes flick immediately to where richie’s standing, and — he swallows. hard. because for halloween this year, richie had dressed as eddie’s worst nightmare. 

blue sweats hung low on richie’s hips, somehow loose and tight all at the same time which in itself was making eddie’s heart stutter, but the worst part was the way the crop top left the flat planes of richie’s skin exposed for eddie to look at. and boy, did he look — he couldn’t stop. it was like everything in eddie’s body was screaming at him to touch, and kiss, and lick, jesus christ. eddie pulled himself together. richie was his best friend, full stop; not even a costume could change that. 

“you— i like your costume,” eddie says, which is true, but it doesn’t nearly encompass just how much he likes it. if it’s any consolation, richie looks a little lost too, like he’d been so wrapped up in just how tight and short eddie’s shorts actually were to register that eddie had said something. 

a smile spreads over richie’s face, slow and knowing, and he shrugs. “told you i was taking it easy.”

“you have never made anything easy on anybody in your entire life, richie.” eddie’s voice is hoarse. he wishes he could disappear. eddie moves toward the kitchen where he can hear bev encouraging everyone to take more shots. “i need a drink.”

“hey,” richie calls, and eddie stops. there’s soft footsteps behind him, and when he turns, richie’s there, towering over him like some stupid, beautiful giraffe. eddie wishes his heart would calm down for like, five seconds, but it only pounds harder when richie reaches up and flicks a finger against the horns eddie’s wearing. his eyes are dark. “you look really — you look _really_ good, eds.” 

is this how just friends looked at each other? with hungry eyes hiding in every glance? eddie knows its not, but he also can’t handle the crushing reality of falling for your best friend, so he casts his gaze towards the kitchen door and takes a step back. 

“i think it’s time to get drunk.” 

—

it’s almost too hot inside. the airs so thick eddie thinks he can taste it, sweat and alcohol and the sickly combo of fifty-something different perfumes. it would be worse if he were sober, but there’s three shots of vodka pulsing through his veins and he’s got half a cup of beer in his hand so he’s feeling pretty solidly tipsy. 

by the time the group had arrived the party was already in full swing, music bellowing out into the cold october evening. there had been more pictures — _“i knew it”_ — but mostly just because bev had spent weeks on her and ben’s bride of & frankenstein costumes and she would not let the photo opportunity go to waste. that and it was their last year all together before everyone split up and went their different ways. 

that reminder had them all toasting for another shot. 

now, eddie was against the wall, watching the party goers make-out in corners and shake their asses for jesus on the dance floor. ben was out there, large arms around bev as they slow-danced in the middle of all the chaos like the romance novel characters they were. bill and stan had been dancing, but a few minutes ago, eddie had watched an alcohol-confident stan drag bill upstairs. so. good for them. richie was nowhere to be found, but eddie would guess he was either out on the porch smoking a joint with mike or chatting up someone in the kitchen. eddie selfishly hoped it was the former. 

“shouldn’t you be out challenging mortals to violin battles or something?” richie slides up next to him, one arm leaning against the cobweb-covered wall, and eddie hates how his body turns without hesitation to face the other. “or promising them one wish in exchange for their pledged soul and then totally fucking them over in the end with the fine print?” 

eddie rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the smile from curling at his lips. “i can’t even play violin.” 

“guess you’ll have to learn.” richie grins. “or you can just stick with the whole getting people to give you their soul thing.” something in richie’s eyes changes, and his free hand comes out to tug at the end of eddie’s cape. “wearing this? i don’t think you’d even have to ask.”

eddie tries to laugh but it gets stuck in his throat along the way and he just ends up staring at richie’s pretty face, framed with sweaty curls. “shut up, richie,” he attempts, but there’s no bite to it and it only brings the grin back to richie’s lips. for a second they just stand there, drunk and smiling, and eddie’s maybe a little glad richie dragged him here tonight. 

“you wanna’ dance?” richie asks, and fuck, eddie does. some hesitancy must read on his face, though, because richie’s following it up with a “doesn’t have to be with me, i guess, but — ” eddie swallows down the rest of the beer before setting his cup on the first flat surface he finds and drags richie, still talking, to the dance floor. 

it’s louder here, closer to the speakers, but eddie’s thankful for it if only because he knows richie’s nervous and might start talking about the intricacies of devil-worship or something. eddie’s done this before, danced with a guy, so he knows what he’s doing. the thing is, it’s never been richie: it’s never been important. then again, eddie’s probably placing too much weight on it; richie probably only asked to dance as friends, and eddie’s over here trying to decide if he should drop it low or — 

richie’s big palms find purchase on eddie’s small hips, and when eddie looks up, richie’s biting his lip. like he’s asking permission. instead of trying to answer, eddie gives him a look that’s way more confident than he feels, and turns in his grip. 

it doesn’t matter how loud the music is, because eddie swears he can hear richie gasp when their bodies press together. 

and eddie just loses himself in it. the lights are low with only flashes of color, but eddie’s got his eyes closed anyways. richie’s hands were on his hips but it’s not even half a song in that they start wandering (because richie’s never been good at doing just one thing for too long). not that eddie’s complaining. actually, he’s a little preoccupied, because just as a hand starts to drift to his thigh, richie’s mouth lowers to brush against eddie’s ear and eddie’s gotta’ focus on not passing out right there. 

“so this is what it feels like to dance with the devil, huh?” 

“beep beep richie, beep --” and then richie’s mouth is attaching itself to eddie’s neck and oh god oh fuck, the gentleness of richie’s lips against his skin is almost too much but it’s nowhere near fucking enough. eddie feels like he’s falling apart and all richie’s done is kiss his neck. eddie is desperate, desperate for more. 

and then the fire alarm goes off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there’s still no sign of any of his friends. at first, when the lights had flicked on and blinded everyone, when the sirens had blared and forced the drunken masses out the door like anchovies out of a crab trap, after eddie had practically leaped out of richie’s grasp, richie had called for him. but the panic of the underaged and the stoned was too strong and the crowd drove eddie out the door first, swept away into the crowd of fucked up college students. at first, he’d waited around. almost five whole minutes he’d waited, which was years in busted-college-party time, until the fire trucks turned down the street and eddie said fuck it. might as well walk home and hope he finds someone. 
> 
> turns out, it’s richie. it always is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note the rating went from M to E bc..... yeah. well. ok good luck

_purple, blue, red, flashes of light across his face. a body pressed close to his, melting, moving. hands on his hips, his thighs, under his shirt just enough. breath, shallow and out of sync with the pulsing music, hot against his skin. burning from the inside out, still hungry for more, more, more._

eddie’s fucking freezing. maybe it had been cold earlier, but he was really regretting leaving the jacket at home now. at this point, his goosebumps had goosebumps. 

there’s still no sign of any of his friends. at first, when the lights had flicked on and blinded everyone, when the sirens had blared and forced the drunken masses out the door like anchovies out of a crab trap, after eddie had practically leaped out of richie’s grasp, richie had called for him. but the panic of the underaged and the stoned was too strong and the crowd drove eddie out the door first, swept away into the crowd of fucked up college students. at first, he’d waited around. almost five whole minutes he’d waited, which was years in busted-college-party time, until the fire trucks turned down the street and eddie said fuck it. might as well walk home and hope he finds someone. 

turns out, it’s richie. it always is. 

eddie’s only walking for a few minutes, fingers tucked into armpits, when he hears another pair of footsteps on the crunching leaves behind him. he stops. turns.

no one’s there. 

“this isn’t funny, fuckwad,” eddie calls, but his teeth are chattering and it’s not all from the cold. there’s no reply. whatever. if he died out here, at least he wouldn’t have to take his calc final. 

“BOO,” richie shouts, and it doesn’t matter that it’s cliche, eddie still screams. or tries to, but richie’s hand clamps over his mouth before he can even take a breath. richie just throws his head back and laughs, hand dropping away when eddie pushes him back. 

“jesus, richie!” eddie says, face red. he’s thankful it’s dark enough that richie couldn’t see it. “you’re a piece of shit.” 

“didn’t your mommy tell you not to walk alone at night?” eddie flips him off before shoving his hands back in his armpits and continuing to walk. richie’s footsteps quickly follow. 

“i would be walking with my friends, but they forgot me.” 

“if you opened your phone for once, you’d have seen we were waiting by the lamppost across the street. watching you.” richie holds up his phone, and despite shaky hands eddie sees a picture of himself looking only slightly warmer and less bitter than he does now. he stops, whipping around to look at richie.

“you guys just watched me stand there? and didn’t, i don’t know, say anything?!” eddie’s furious. and tipsy. but mostly just furious. richie just looks fond as hell. 

“if you just—” 

“yeah, yeah, opened my phone, i—” and then eddie’s eyes are going wide because oh, _fuck_, his phone. “oh, _fuck_, my phone.” it’d been tucked between his skin and his shorts, held in place purely by the tightness of the elastic. clearly, it hadn’t been tight enough to combat swimming through a sea of people. “god dammit.” eddie shivered. there was no way he had enough body heat left to go all the way back, look for his phone, and get home without some mild form of frostbite. 

“i just texted ben,” richie says, sliding his phone back in his pocket. eddie hadn’t even noticed richie move. “he’ll look for it. you need to warm up before i submit you to an ice sculpture contest.” eddie gives him a look.

“not your best.”

“yeah i wasn’t feeling it either.” richie’s grinning again. that same, stupid grin he always wears; the same stupid grin that made eddie’s chest fill with stars. “c’mon. we’ll stop at my house and get you a jacket. it’s closer.” 

eddie contemplated it. on one hand, what if his mother had an emergency and eddie didn’t have his phone to answer when she called? on the other hand, though, it was a foolproof excuse for not answering if she did.

it didn’t end up mattering what he thought when his body made the decision for him, giving a head-to-toe shiver before his teeth started clacking around like marbles in bag. 

“why the fuck are we still standing here, let’s go!”

richie just shakes his head, that same old smile in place, and follows as eddie stomps through the leaves.

—

somehow they make the ten minute trip to richie’s in six flat. eddie’s legs just started moving on their own, short quick steps that had him keeping up perfectly with richie’s long strides.

“you want some water or something?” richie asks when they’re through the door, heading to the kitchen. “i think stan has some hot chocolate packets around here. or, you know, keep the party rolling with some shots? oh, i’ve also got ramen if you’re hungry or whatev— _oof_.” 

“shut up, richie,” eddie says, pressing a surprised richie against the fridge. he might be small but he’s strong (and richie wasn’t expecting it). “just shut. up.” eddie looks up with big eyes: determined, but still a little fucking terrified. 

“you’re freezing, eds,” richie says, but he’s looking at eddie’s neck like he can’t pay attention to anything else. _the hickey_, eddie thinks, and richie may be right but eddie suddenly feels warm all over. 

“are we just gonna’ pretend like all of that didn’t happen?” the question hangs between them, heavy, and richie’s eyes find their way back to eddie’s. 

“do you want to?” 

eddie swallows. he doesn’t think any amount of alcohol could make him forget the way richie’s hands felt on him. months -- years, if he was honest with himself -- he’d imagined it, and no amount of day-dreaming could have prepared him for that. but there were lines between them. barely any, after so long of knowing each other, and some they’d already crossed tonight. the big one, though, the ‘our friendship could potentially never recover from this’ one, stood clean between them. 

“no,” he says softly, truthfully. eddie wanted richie. eddie wanted richie with everything inside of him. was that selfish? maybe. he didn’t care. 

richie, quieter than eddie had ever seen him before, was looking at eddie through his thick glasses with a kind of intensity that made eddie shiver and grip at richie’s shirt a little tighter. suddenly, there were gentle hands, tentative at his hips. eddie stepped closer. 

“me neither,” comes richie’s reply, and his voice is gravelly, like he’d just woken up or had the wind knocked out of him. this all feels so much bigger than eddie can even fully comprehend, but it also feels extraordinarily simple because it’s them. it’s eddie and richie, richie and eddie. 

“so,” eddie says.

“so,” richie says back. 

eddie doesn’t know if it’s richie swooping down or eddie surging up or if they’re meeting somewhere in the middle but suddenly they’re kissing, all heat and grabbing hands and bruising lips. eddie kisses like he’s starving for it, because he is, and richie’s just as hungry. eddie’s just kind of pulling at richie’s shirt to keep him close (like richie’s going anywhere) and the feel of plasticy-printed numbers makes him want to smile despite the hands currently dropping to cup around his ass. 

“you wore my teen heartthrob’s outfit,” eddie says, breathless between kisses.

“yeah.”

“for me.”

“yeah.” richie bit down on eddie’s lower lip, sucked it into his mouth and made eddie fucking whimper. _whimper_. eddie thought maybe richie did a lot of things just for eddie.

“can we go to your room?”

“fuck, eddie, _yeah_,” richie groans, and trips over his own legs like a faun on ice trying to get to his room as fast as possible. somehow, it just makes eddie harder. 

and, fuck, is he hard. it’s painfully obvious as they fumble down the hallway, hands all over each other in the darkness between rooms. richie’s thigh ends up between eddie’s legs at one point and he gasps, unable to stop himself from rocking down against the pressure. 

“fuck, eds, c’mon, almost there,” but richie’s not making any effort to move either, just mouths at eddie’s arched neck and lets eddie ride his leg right there in the hall. why don’t they just fuck here? eddie’s dick is certainly on board, and if eddie’s little gasp is anything to go by, so’s the rest of him, but richie’s head thumps against the wall and he pulls back. “mike’ll kill me if we get cum on his door, c’mon.” 

eddie follows. 

richie’s room isn’t as messy now as it was in childhood. back then it was a feat to be able to walk to richie’s bed without putting your foot through a pile of dirty laundry or stepping on at least three separate comic books. at least now there was spots of clean floor, and eddie didn’t see a single empty box of cheez-its. then again, he was a little busy being tugged along by richie, who hadn’t stopped touching him since the kitchen and who was driving him absolutely fucking bonkers. 

“god, richie, just take your pants off,” eddie demands, impatiently tugging at the waistband of those stupid, stupid sweatpants. 

“haven’t heard that from a kaspbrak since the last time i fucked your mom,” richie says, and it’s still not his best, but eddie knows richie’s just cracking jokes because he’s nervous and fuck if eddie isn’t nervous too. it’s a weird kind of nerves, though, the kind you feel at the top of a roller coaster before you drop down the first hill: you’re terrified, hands shaking, but sweet exhilaration is right at your fingertips. 

richie’s still not making any move to take his pants off, too distracted by sucking another bruise onto eddie’s neck, so eddie says fuck it and tugs his own shirt off, cape already torn off somewhere in the hallway. richie swallows, and eddie tries not to feel so proud of himself for shutting richie up again. until his left foot, which had been standing on an open comic book, slips forward and eddie goes toppling onto the bed with a little smack as his head hits the wall.

“shit,” eddie curses, cradling the back of his head. it doesn’t really hurt, but his cheeks are aflame with embarassment because fuck, how unsexy can he be? richie’s already crawling over him, clearly trying not to laugh. “you need to clean your room. _disgusting_.” 

“it got you into my bed faster, so i’m okay with the mess.” 

“you’re a pig,” eddie sniffs, but he’s already getting lost in the way richie’s looking down at him to feel anything but ripped open. richie’s fingers brush the hair from eddie’s forehead (too tender, too much) and eddie can’t stand how his heart burns for it. “aren’t you going to ask if i’m okay?”

richie snorts. “you’re still insulting me, so there’s clearly not brain damage.” he leans down to kiss the side of eddie’s head anyways, and then his cheek, and his jaw, and when their lips finally meet eddie melts into it and his eyes flutter shut. this kiss is slower than before, like richie’s still starving but he’s pacing himself. like he’s savoring it. eddie feels hot all over.

richie’s mouth marks a path down his neck and across his chest, over his stomach, over each rise of his hip bones; eddie holds his breath waiting for another touch that never comes. when eddie opens his eyes again, richie’s just looking at him like he’s drinking everything in. 

“what are you doing?” 

“looking.” richie’s hands slide up eddie’s sides and his thumbs brush across eddie’s nipples.

“_richie_.” 

“i’ve been waiting for this for so long. i don’t want to forget anything.” it’s woundingly honest. eddie aches. “i want to remember every freckle,” richie says, and the kiss he presses to eddie’s thigh is so gentle it leaves goosebumps in its wake. “every sound you make” another kiss, to the opposite thigh, and eddie doesn’t even bother hiding the whimper it elicits. “everything, i want to remember everything, eds.” and then richie’s slipping his fingers under the waistband of eddie’s red shorts and tugging them down.

was it supposed to feel like this? was eddie supposed to feel so much, so deeply, to feel like his entire body was cracking open and flooding the room with how big his heart was swelling? this wasn’t fucking fair. where was the richie who burped mid-sentence before carrying on with the conversation, the richie that still talked about sonia kaspbrak’s underwear like the weather? how was it possible that richie could be so disgusting every other minute of his life and still have eddie nearly panting before he’d even touched his dick? 

richie tozier was ruining his life. 

there had been no point in wearing underwear: everyone was going to be able to see his ass regardless, why try to hide it? but richie’s doing that looking thing again, and eddie’s going to crawl out of his skin if richie doesn’t touch him right fucking now. 

“rich, please, just touch me, i—” and before eddie can even finish, richie’s licking a stripe up eddie’s cock and “oh god oh fuck, _richie_.” 

it’s all downhill from there. 

eddie falls apart embarrassingly fast. he’s thankful for the empty apartment, but at this point all of richie’s neighbors could hear the _fuck fuck fuck_’s and the _yes richie_’s and the incomprehesible whines that piece together into a custom aria dedicated to the perfection of richie’s mouth and hands: hands that take over when richie pulls off with red, spit-slick lips.

“is it good?” he asks, and then his tongue flicks out across eddie’s tip.

“are you fucking serious?” eddie’s losing his mind. he can’t decide if he wants to kill richie now or later. richie just swallows him down again, infuriating eddie even further because how was it possible for someone to smirk like that with a dick in their mouth? 

eddie learns quickly that richie likes it when eddie pulls at his hair, which isn’t all that surprising considering how often he let eddie play with it. he also learns just how good richie is at sucking dick, which is a double-edged sword because eddie’s losing his goddamn mind with how incredible it feels but he also doesn’t want to think about richie doing this to anyone else, ever. it’s okay, though, because thinking is getting more and more impossible as richie gets more and more enthusiastic. 

it’s over too soon, and the only warning richie gets is a punched out “oh _god_,” before eddie’s back is arching off the bed as richie’s throat works around him. eddie’s pretty fucking sure he sees god, he cums so hard, but richie doesn’t seem to care and doesn’t even bother pulling off. in fact, he keeps licking at eddie’s length after he’s swallowed until eddie’s body won’t stop shaking and he has to push richie back because it’s so sensitive it hurts. 

“c’mon, c’mere,” eddie mumbles, making grabby hands at the other until richie gets the hint and pushes himself up to press a kiss against eddie’s mouth. it’s just as gross as eddie thought it would be, and normally eddie hates the taste of himself on someone else, but somehow, on richie, he doesn’t mind all that much. but eddie’s on a mission, despite just having his soul ripped out his dick, his hand slips down richie’s sweats to grasp where he’s hard and waiting. hard and waiting and fucking huge. eddie groans.

“are you fucking kidding me right now, rich?”

“wh-” richie inhales sharply as eddie’s wrist twists. “what?” 

“you have a massive dick and i don’t even get to enjoy it tonight? what the fuck.” soon, as in as soon as eddie was showered and not jelly-legged from coming his brains out, eddie was gonna’ get this inside him. “you’re gonna’ fuck me with this. not now, but fucking soon.”

“yeah,” richie gasps, and eddie thinks richie must be part leech or something because he’s attaching himself to eddie’s neck again, little pleased noises coming out against his skin as eddie’s hand works faster, faster. 

“eds, eddie, baby, i’m gonna’—”

“c’mon, c’mon,” eddie turns so he can capture richie’s mouth in a kiss again because eddie wants to kiss him forever and ever. eddie kisses him through it, despite the taste, because hearing richie whimper against his lips as he finishes over eddie’s fingers is the sweetest melody. 

richie collapses, half on top of eddie. they both just lay there for a moment, panting, until the stickiness on eddie’s fingers is too gross to handle and he wipes them on richie’s pants. 

“thanks,” richie huffs, but he doesn’t sound all that mad. it’s quiet again, but then “were you serious?”

“about what?”

“me fucking you.” 

“mmm maybe,” eddie says. he’s exhausted all of a sudden, and his eyes are already closing despite the instinct to get up and shower. “but only if you wear this again.” he’s joking. mostly. 

“you’re into the costume, huh? maybe next time i’ll pick up a nun’s outfit. or maybe a sexy nurse, really play into your doctor kaspbrak fantas—”

“shut _up_,” eddie sighs, but he’s smiling despite himself. “i’m not into the costume.” a pause. “well, not just the costume.” be brave, be brave, be brave. “i’m into _you_.” 

eddie feels richie lift his head up, and when he opens his eyes, richie’s looking at him with skewed glasses and pink cheeks and the softest little smile eddie’s ever seen in his whole damn life.  
“yeah?”

“yeah. somehow.” 

“well i’m into you too,” richie says. he really doesn’t need to: literally anyone could see how much richie tozier loved eddie kaspbrak. but it was nice to hear, and eddie’s heart _thumpthumps_ in his chest. “though breaking it off with your mom is gonna’ be really difficult, so i hope you’ll stand by me in these trying times.” 

“beep fucking beep, richie.”

— 

it’s not much longer before they’re both barely hanging onto consciousness, so richie slips off his glasses and sets them on the bedside table before clicking off the lamp and curling his too-long body around eddie’s.

“stay,” he murmurs, lips against eddie’s bare shoulder. it’s really not fair that richie never made it out of any of his clothes and eddie was burrowed under the covers completely naked, but with the comforting weight of richie’s warmth against him he cared a little less. eddie wasn’t planning on leaving, and they both knew that, but it still makes the corners of eddie’s mouth pull up into a sleepy little smile.

“you couldn’t kick me out if you tried, rich.”

—

eddie picks up his phone from ben the next day, and the horns he’d lost in the fray, and ben takes one look at his neck and one look at the clothes eddie had clearly stolen from richie’s closet before smiling knowingly.

“happy halloween, eddie!” 

“goodbye, ben.” ben just laughs. 

on the walk home, eddie finally checks his messages.

**mike (11:12pm) to LOSERS**  
i’m by the streetlamp on west ave

**bev (11:12pm) to LOSERS**  
i’m staying with ben to help deal with the firetrucks. stay safe!!

**bill (11:13pm) to LOSERS**  
stan and i are coming

**richie (11:13pm) to LOSERS**  
yeah you are ;)))))

**stan (11:13pm) to LOSERS**  
Blocked. Reported. 

**stan (11:14pm) to LOSERS**  
Eddie, we’re right across the street.

**richie (11:14pm) to LOSERS**  
look at this idiot [picture message]

**ben (11:48pm) to EDDIE**  
Found your phone :) text me when you want to pick it up!

**ben (11:48pm) to EDDIE**  
Oh right

**bill (1:48am) to LOSERS**  
I SLEPT WITH STANLYET URIS

**bev (1:49am) to LOSERS**  
group chat, bill

**bill (1:50am) to EDDIE**  
I SLEPT WITH STANLEY URIS

**bill (1:50am) to EDDIE**  
AND IM GONNA DO IT AGAIN

eddie smiles to himself before shooting off a response.

**eddie (9:23am) to BILL**  
i slept with richie

**bill (9:24am) to EDDIE**  
finally

**bill (9:24am) to EDDIE**  
and?

before eddie can respond, his phone lights up with another text, and then another.

**richie (9:26am) to LOSERS**  
i’m so proud of you bill! stan, you could do better.

**richie (9:26am) to EDDIE**  
thanks for stealing my clothes i am keeping these red booty shorts they make my ass look phat

**richie (9:27am) to EDDIE**  
[picture message] 

eddie chokes back a laugh and saves the photo to his camera roll before swiping back to his conversation with bill, eyes alight. 

**eddie (9:28am) to BILL**  
and i’m gonna do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to physically restrain myself from ending this differently and turning it into angst. anyways thanks to pam for the beta and jack for the beta with the added bonus of holding my hand thru my first smut experience. as always its @eddiekissbrak on tumblr, lets wrap it up boys ill see ya next time

**Author's Note:**

> come bother me on tumblr @eddiekissbrak


End file.
